


14. While Sir Is Away... A Boy Gets to Play

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [14]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 04:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4551306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>warning for deeply inappropriate use of a vegetable! Humiliation</p>
    </blockquote>





	14. While Sir Is Away... A Boy Gets to Play

**Author's Note:**

> warning for deeply inappropriate use of a vegetable! Humiliation

It's a long flight, overnight, most of it spent reviewing plans, the seat next to him conveniently vacant. More than a few times, Antony calls up Stephen's picture on his phone, the thought that this man is _his_ one that never fails to amaze him. It's all happened so fast but often the best things do and Antony's not about to waste time in second-guessing this. He catches an hour of sleep towards the end, just enough to have him fresh and raring to go when they land. And he's barely off the plane and through customs before he texts Stephen on the way to his waiting car.

 _It's me. Just landed. Missing you already. Hope you have a good day._

Stephen's on his way into the shower when he checks his phone, and grins when he sees a message from Antony. Feeling a little naughty he waits until he's on his way out of the shower before he replies - with a thigh to head shot of himself, naked, still dripping with water taken in his bathroom mirror. _Hello me! Here's a pic to make you smile._

Groan is more like it, Antony thinks, barely biting back the sound when he sees that picture. Grateful everyone's busy with their shit when the text comes through. He'll have to think twice about checking his messages when he's with his crew.

 _Tease_ he texts back quickly. _Now show me the other side :)_

"What's up?" Marcus asks, watching Antony.

"Nothing," Antony assures him, setting his phone facedown on the table. "Why?"

"You're grinning to yourself, mate," Marcus says, unused to seeing Antony anything but totally serious when they're preparing for a job.

Stephen laughs when he gets his Sir's response just minutes later. So he does as he's told, and takes a back shot, his butt tight, the little dimples at the very base of his back in evidence. _Yes Sir! Xx_ He wonders briefly if the small number of bruises Antony left behind are even visible to his Sir. 

It's halfway through the day, basic ground reconnaissance carried out, before Antony gets to check his phone and Stephen's reply. Marcus is at the bar getting their food and the Russian's excused himself to use the toilets. Antony settles in the booth, back against the wall, and calls up the picture, flicking back and forth between it and the first.

 _Good boy. Gonna have to up the ante with the next one *eg*_ he teases.

 _Hmmm_ Stephen's brow wrinkles in thought when he gets Antony's reply. He's just making himself a coffee before settling down to look at some paperwork his people have sent him. It's already set out on the floor in front of his TV and he sinks down to sit cross legged. 

A couple of hours later he's rooting through a drawer in his bedroom, hunting out a small digital camera that has a time lapse setting. He figures he'll have a play with it after work tomorrow and then send something to his Sir on email. 

Rolling out of the bed the next morning, Antony checks his phone, surprised at the small flutter of disappointment he feels when there isn't something waiting from Stephen. That's stupid though. They both lead busy lives. His boy's got better things to be doing than constantly texting him. It's a long day ahead though and Antony probably won't get another chance so he fires off a _Morning. Thinking of you. Dreaming about Fiji :) Hope you have a good day._

It's odd to wake up and have these little messages left for him Stephen finds, he'd not thought Antony to be so attentive when he's not in his actual company, but so far he's been proven wrong, and he rather likes it. 

He sends a text back before he gets out of bed, not even sure when his Sir will get chance to read it. 

_ Hey you! I've been checking the club website for Fiji, WOW. Check your email tonight. You're in my thoughts. _

The message makes Antony smile when he checks his phone as the group's grabbing dinner. He glances up to catch Marcus staring at him though and quickly shoves his cell back in his pocket, instead concentrating on the dirty jokes being exchanged by his crew.

It takes Stephen a little while to get the camera set up properly, and he makes a few false starts with the timer before he gets it right. Finally, he manages to sink to his knees, correct his posture and still have a moment to compose himself before the shutter clicks and takes his picture. When he has one that feels _right_ , where he has the look in his eyes he was trying for, he loads it up to his computer, and attaches it to an email. 

_ Sir, Your boy is thinking of you. _

With that he hits 'send'.

Thankfully by the time Antony gets to check his messages again he's back in his room, alone, ready to crash. But that photo... Fuck. All thoughts of sleep immediately disappear and instead, Antony's wrapping his hand around his cock, stroking roughly, the job's tension coiling tight into arousal, which peaks higher and higher until it explodes, his hand soaked with his seed. Still panting softly, he turns the phone on himself, snapping a picture of the mess he's made.

_ Good boy. Gorgeous picture. _

Stephen doesn't get to check his phone until he's home, his day had been insanely busy and he's ready for a hot bath, beer and a large deep dish pizza. He dials for the 'za from his land line, kicks his clothes off on the way to the bathroom and only when he's perched on the edge of his bath - the water thundering in behind him - does he check for messages. 

The praise makes his belly roll in pleasure, the accompanying picture however makes his dick hard. Really fucking hard. And he's already curled his fingers around it when he recalls his new rules. _Fuck!_ He takes a breath, then another, and muttering to himself about _fucking orgasm denial, fucking shit_ he takes a picture of his own dick and sends it back to Antony.

 _Your picture caused a similar problem Sir._ He pauses and then figures honestly is the best policy. _Your boy did touch himself without thinking, though he removed his hand the moment he realized. Boy apologises for touching what does not belong to him._

There'd been nothing from Stephen on his phone when he'd left the hotel but Antony doesn't have a chance to check until late the next night, only to find out there's no fucking coverage where they are. He could use the satellite phone to call Stephen but they're in close quarters where they are, all hunkered down, counting the hours and minutes til they hit their target. Oh well. This is how it's going to be most of the time. His boy might as well get used to not hearing from him for a few days. And Antony'd better get used to it too.

The first 24 hours of silence Stephen puts down to Antony being busy - or out of signal range. However when he doesn't hear back after that he spends the next 12 or so hours on edge - worried he's fucked up, worried that Antony is so pissed at him for breaking one rule, such a fucking _basic_ rule, that perhaps he's rethinking their whole arrangement. He makes himself stay busy, spending extra time in the gym under the pretense of catching up after a weekend of overindulgence. By the time he hits 40 hours of nothing, Stephen's talked himself back into 'he's busy, he's out of signal range, something's come up' and he hangs onto that with a quiet distraction that has his co workers murmuring their concern. 

By the time Antony's alone again for more than a few minutes, _with_ coverage, it's been almost three frigging days since he's been in contact with Stephen. The job's done, carried off with their usual flair, the goods safely stored until they finish the second job and really, all Antony wants is to fall into bed. Well, shower and fall into bed. But he checks his phone first, sitting on the edge of the desk and when he reads Stephen's text, never mind that the picture has his cock instantly hard, he curses under his breath. Jesus Christ. He can just imagine how his silence might have come across. What a fucking time to...

To hell with texting. He rings Stephen's number, too bone-deep exhausted to even try and calculate the time difference.

Pushing his front door open with his shoulder, Stephen curses when his phone starts to trill, with arms full of groceries he kicks the door shut behind him and trots into the kitchen so he can slide the bags on the counter top, pulling his phone from his pocket and hitting 'accept' without a glance at who it might be.

"Hi, yeah?" he rumbles, breathless. 

"Hey, it's me," Antony says softly. "I'm not waking you or anything, am I?"

Suddenly Stephen feels nauseous, his belly rolls and his heart beat kicks up. It's a mixture of relief and trepidation, worry that in this moment of relief, his Sir will be disappointed in him. 

"No...no, I just got in...it's good to hear your voice," Stephen turns to lean against one of the cupboards, closing his eyes. "Real good."

"It's good to hear yours too," Antony says, running a hand over his closely-shorn hair. He blows out a soft breath. "We just got back. We were out of range for a few days so I just got your last text now."

"I...I kinda hoped that was the case." And in that Stephen leaves a lot unsaid, about how unsure of himself, and their very new relationship he's been in the last day or so. 

Antony nods. "Just so you know. If I were pissed off at you, I wouldn't go silent. Not like that anyway. Not for that length of time."

"Yeah?" And there's a whole heap of relief in that one word. "I...I...was worried for a while," Stephen admits. "And I'm really sorry I fucked up so soon, a fucking rookie error."

"We'll call it a freebie," Antony says with a smile. "Since we just signed our contract and you were honest about it."

Rubbing his hand over his eyes Stephen huffs out a breath of relief. "Thanks, and thank you for calling. I appreciate it, I know I'm not someone who gets needy, but...some reassurance feels good." 

Antony nods. "It seemed like a good time to call. In terms of clearing that up, I mean - I don't even know what time it is there." He's so tired he can still barely think straight but now that he's got Stephen on the phone, he wants them to talk at least a little longer. "You said you just got in. From work?"

"Yeah, it's just after 6, we finished early, I managed to stop and get some groceries in on the way home. I'm going to cook up a batch of curry for the freezer," Stephen smiles, aware at how inane that information is. "Otherwise I order take out, and have to spend longer in the gym."

"What kind of curry?" Antony asks.

"Chicken Bhuna." Stephen pushes up away from the counter and turns to pull open the fridge, he peers inside, looking for a bottle of juice. "Extra mushroom. Do you like curry?" 

Antony smiles. "I love curry. I love anything spicy or hot. Unless it involves eggplant or aubergine, whatever you want to call it. I can't stand eggplant."

"Noted, no aubergine," Stephen chuckles. "I shall cook fresh for you when we're back from Fiji, we'll do the whole nine yards, bhaji, naan bread, pickles..." It feels good to make the offer, to make plans beyond a somewhat fantasy level trip to Fiji. "How's work? You sound really wiped out."

"It's good." Antony shoves off the desk and walks to the bed, settling on the side there. "We actually have two jobs this trip and we just finished the first. This was the more physical of the two though, so yeah, I need a shower, I'm tired, aching like hell." He grins. "I seem to have forgotten most of that while talking to you though."

"Glad I could help." What Stephen leaves unsaid though is his urge, his need, to tend to his new Sir; to run him a bath, to bathe him, to offer to massage away his aches. "Wish I could do more."

"You could make me forget a little bit longer," Antony says with a smile, lying back, a pillow shoved behind his head. "When was the last time you came? That morning at Citadel?"

"The last time I was with you, of course," Stephen nods, he makes his way into his living room, toes off his shoes and drops down into his favourite chair. "Not my last hard-on though, obviously," he grins, referring to the last picture he sent his Sir.

Antony grins, all out this time. "I love that picture," he murmurs. "So.. let's see... what are you wearing?"

"Jeans, a tee, a hoodie..." Stephen has to smile, it's a cheesy line after all. "Nothing in silk or with black lace sadly," he teases softly. 

Antony laughs. "That's too bad. Underwear?"

"Shorts, jersey jockey shorts, navy blue," Stephen lifts the waist band of his jeans and peers down to check. 

"Get rid of the hoodie and the jeans," Antony orders.

It's that subtle shift in Antony's voice that has Stephen's heart rate picking up. He can't not respond to it, even after such a short amount of time together. "Yes Sir," he murmurs, setting his phone aside before removing the requested items, which he drapes over the back of his seat. He picks up the phone again. "Done Sir."

"Good. Are you hard?" Antony asks, slowly unzipping his jeans, his own cock already pressed against the denim, anticipation coursing through his veins.

"No... not entirely Sir," because Stephen wasn't about to let himself get carried away and then spend the rest of the evening with aching nuts. "Am I allowed to touch myself?" he asks, pushing his shorts down and hooking them under his balls, but even as he looks down, his cock continues to swell.

"Not until you find something to fuck yourself with that _isn't_ a toy," Antony replies, a wicked smile curving his lips.

Stephen blinks in surprise, and his cock jerks hard...because fuck! "Um...okay..." Stephen's brain spins into over drive, and his immediate thought is something from the kitchen. "I...well..." he stutters. "A zucchini, I have zucchini?"

Antony's smile widens. "That'll do. Get it. Some lube too."

Stephen's not gone long, he selects a middling sized vegetable, one with a slight curve to it, then he hunts down lube and a condom, by the time he's sat back down with the phone to his ear his cock is hard enough, wet at the tip and his entire focus is on the man at the other end of the line. "Ready."

"First, tell me about it," Antony says, hissing in a soft breath as his hand moves over his cock, freed from his jeans now, stroking slowly. "How long is it? How thick?"

Picking up the vegetable Stephen turns it this way and that. "It's about 10 inches, and not quite as thick as you," he murmurs, lost for a moment in the memory of how it feels to have his Sir slide home, his impressive dick stretching him to the point of tearing. "I really want your cock Sir..." he blurts out, and then blushes almost instantly in response. 

"And I want your hole, your cunt, wrapped around my cock, boy. I want to be fucking you so hard you can feel me in your throat..." Antony says, having to still his hand for a moment.

Stephen whimpers, the small sound spilling from his lips as his body tightens in response to Antony's growled words. "Promise...promise me..boy...that you'll do that when you see him...please.." he begs. 

"I promise," Antony says and one thing Stephen will learn about him - he _never_ makes a promise he doesn't keep. "When I see you in Fiji, I'm gonna fuck you right there, in front of everyone. Let them watch me claim my boy."

"Thank you...thank you..." Stephen sucks in a breath and then tries to steady himself as he rips open the condom packet - tugging the latex free he rolls it over the zucchini with shaking hands. "This boy.... _I'm_ proud to be yours Sir..."

"And I'm so proud you're mine," Antony says, his hand moving slowly again. "I want you to shove your underwear down. Don't take it off. I want this to be awkward. I want you in your t-shirt and your briefs, a fucking vegetable in your ass, fucking your cunt open for me...."

Pushing the fabric down, Stephen ends up with his shorts somewhere between his knees and his ankles. He slides out of the chair and onto his knees. It's only at this point he seems to recall he has a 'speaker' option on his phone - he presses it and then set the phone carefully on the edge of the chair he's just vacated. "Sir..." he murmurs, indicating he's ready for his next direction.

"Prep yourself. Get your fingers in your ass and open it up for me, boy," Antony directs, stilling his hand again, because at this rate, he's going to come before Stephen even gets the zucchini anywhere near his hole. "And talk to me while you're doing it. Tell me how many fingers you've got in, how it feels..."

In his haste Stephen spills lube in the floor, but he barely registers that as he reaches back with fingers covered in thick white lube. First he rubs around his hole before sliding two straight in. "M'using my favourite lube...it's thick, I'm rubbing over my...your...hole...fingers in now...two, it's good, my holes tingling, like when you do it....eager...fuck!" He grunts and adds a third. "Three now...burns, a taste of pain...my cock's wet...precum's beading already."

Fuck. Antony's cock jumps in his hand and he actually lets go, watching it twitch for a moment before he takes hold again. "Are you ready for it?" he murmurs. "Do you _need_ your ass filled, boy?"

"Yeah...yeah I do...empty..boy feels empty, he wants Sir to force his cock in, make boy take it...that beautiful thick cock...stretched out, fucked until his hole is ruined, dripping with Sir's cum...." Stephen's slicking up the zucchini now, smearing it with the thick lube before he reaches back to offer it up to his ass. 

"Do it," Antony orders, his face and chest flushed with arousal, his cock so fucking hard, leaking precome all over his fingers. "Shove it up your ass, boy."

And Stephen does, a little clumsily, but he pushes until his hole gives, opening up to take the vegetable, he bears down grunting hard as he takes it - making sure it hurts just a little - a counterpoint to the pleasure, adding a whole other layer of sensation to the experience. "S'in...it's in boy..." he pushes until he has a good portion of it inside, and unlike a cock it's unforgiving, there's no lessening of the hardness of it. 

Antony's cock gives another jerk with that grunt and Christ, he wishes he was there. Wishes it was his cock inside his boy, fucking him open. Making him hurt. "Such a dirty little slut," he murmurs. "Take a picture for me."

"I'll try," Stephen picks up his phone, "If I disconnect by accident, call me back please?" he murmurs, twisting to hold his phone out to get in a shot of the zucchini as it sticks out from his ass. It's not the best shot, it's a little blurry, but it's enough, and he sends it before setting the phone back on the chair.

A groan spills from Antony's lips as he opens the picture. Fuck. The image was already there in his head, but this, this just fills in all the details. "Good boy," he murmurs. "Now fuck yourself with it. Let me hear you."

So Stephen does, and he holds nothing back - shoving the vegetable in every bit as hard as he's sure his Sir would, gifting Antony with every single moan and hissed out noise as he does so.

"Christ. You're such a fucking slut for this, aren't you, boy?" Antony says, taking in each and every sound, all of it going straight to his cock. "Such a needy little fucktoy."

"Not this...you...you Sir," Stephen grinds out between clenched teeth. "Slut for you." 

Antony nods. It's all the difference in the world. "For me," he murmurs. "My boy, my fucktoy. How close are you?"

"Just...just need your perr...word.." Stephen stutters, his cock spitting precum in long streams down onto the floor beneath him. His arm still moving to push and pull the zucchini in and out of his hole, angled to give himself maximum stimulation. 

"Do it. Come for me," Antony orders, gripping his cock tight as he waits for Stephen to obey on the other end of line.

Stephen has to let go of the vegetable, to give his cock two rough strokes, and then he roars, his orgasm ripping through him so hard that he pushes the zucchini out, it lands in the tangle of his shorts. Cum spills over his fingers as he rocks back and forth on his knees. 

Oh fuck. Antony's climax slams over him in waves, his cock pulsing roughly in his hand, coating his fingers with thick hot seed. "Good boy," he murmurs, swallowing hard, his throat gone dry. "Now clean it up. Every last fucking drop."

Stephen's already on it, his fingers in his mouth as he sucks off the sticky ejaculate, he reaches down to squeeze out the last of it from his dick and when that's been swallowed he scoots back to drag his fingers over the small amount he'd spilled on the floor. Panting he leans against the edge of the seat, mouth close to the phone. "It's done...clean...thank you Sir."

"You're welcome," Antony says with a smile, wiping his own fingers with some tissues. "You're a good boy. _My_ good boy." He blows out a breath. It really is getting late and they all have to be out of here at the crack of dawn. "We're moving to the next place tomorrow so I'll be out of touch again for a day or two, but I should be able to call you again..." _fuck_ doing the calculations in his head, "third or fourth night from now? We'll skype. And this time I want you to have three things you can fuck yourself with - not toys, not vegetables - whatever you have in your house, and I'll choose."

The praise soothes Stephen some, in the absence of his Sir's presence it's all he's got. He disentangles himself from his shorts so he can sit on his butt. He tries to absorb Antony's words, his instructions, and nods at the phone before realising he needs to actually _speak_. "Yeah... sure, okay Sir." 

The way Stephen responds, it's clear he's still under, and Antony can't leave him like that. Not when they're this fucking far apart. "Come back to me, Stephen," he orders.

Those words are exactly what Stephen needs, he heaves in a deep breath and closes his eyes, centring himself before he blows it out on a count of ten. When he's done he can finally feel his headspace retreating - albeit slowly. "Yeah...okay...I'm with you."

"Good." Antony smiles. "Did you get what I told you about the next few days and about skyping?" He doesn't mind repeating himself, not with Stephen, not if he needs it.

"Yeah I think so, you're out of reach for the next few days, and we'll Skype in 3 days, and I need 3 things for you to pick from to use on myself," Stephen summarises, he reaches up to rub a hand over his face, and recoils when the scent of semen hits him. 

"Some clamps as well, or clothespins, you choose, but I want you to add some pain next time," Antony says.

"Got it." Stephen slumps against the chair, eyes closed, suddenly really tired. "Can't wait to see you in Fiji," he murmurs. "Just some hang out time, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Antony says, nodding. Wishing it were sooner. "You got your tickets okay?"

"Yeah, thank you, I'm assuming I don't need to pack many clothes do I?" Stephen grins, humour warm in his tone. "My collar and not much else I'm guessing."

"Sounds perfect," Antony murmurs, smiling. "I can't wait. Talk to you in a couple of days?"

"Yes, I'm looking forward to it already." Stephen pauses. "Missing you," he adds, hoping it's not too much too soon. 

"Me too," Antony says softly. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

"Night Sir, sleep well Antony," Stephen returns, a soft smile playing over his mouth.


End file.
